


When Snakes Get Stuck

by Light7



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Drunkenness, Fluff and Humor, Snake Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-10-29 13:09:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20797145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Light7/pseuds/Light7
Summary: When Crowley gets stuck as a snake Aziraphale doesn’t know what to do.





	1. Chapter 1

It was over. 

It was over and they were fine. 

It kept coming to the forefront of Aziraphale’s mind as they stumbled their way home from lunch at the Ritz. Crowley had smuggled one of the wine bottles out of the restaurant under his jacket and it was miraculously staying full on the walk home despite how much they drank from it. They meandered their way through London, talking about the merits of the lunch and the wine, all the while the thought that it was all over, they had actually done it kept repeating in Aziraphale’s mind. When they reached the newly restored bookshop Aziraphale unlocked the door, or rather he tried to. Every time he tried to put the key in the lock, he missed the mark completely. 

“Too much wine, Angel?” Crowley smirked behind him. 

“Hardly,” Aziraphale grumbled. “It’s my hands, they’re shaking, can’t seem to stop them.” He jumped when Crowley’s long-fingered hand covered his own and helped guide the key home. He held the door open and allowed the demon to enter first before closing it behind them and locking it. The bookshop was quiet, dark and smelled of home. The minute the comforting smell hit him he felt his legs go from under him and he was on the floor. 

“Angel!” Crowley was in front of him instantly. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Aziraphale said shooing the demon away. “Don’t fuss.” He took a deep breath and managed to get to his feet. Once upright again he looked at Crowley and smiled. “We did it,” he said softly. “I can’t believe we did it!” he couldn’t help the laughter that started. “We actually did it! We tricked them and everything is fine.” 

He wasn’t sure who initiated it but the growing excitement somehow became a hug. Aziraphale smiled as thin but surprisingly strong arms wrapped around his lower back, then suddenly he was lifted, his feet off the ground and they were spinning. It was utterly ridiculous but also delightful, until he started to feel dizzy. He gripped Crowley by the shoulders and gestured for him to stop. The demon who had been grinning wider than Aziraphale ever remembered seeing seemed to realise what they were doing and released him abruptly, taking a short step back, putting a little space between them before chugging the bottle of wine in his hand. Holding his head Aziraphale smiled warmly and tried not to stagger. Crowley was always so embarrassed all the time, it was delightfully endearing given his supposed demonic nature. 

“I think this calls for a drink,” Aziraphale said when the room stopped spinning and Crowley had finished his wine. “Well, more drink, a celebration.”

They spent the remainder of the afternoon and the evening in the bookshop, steadily working their way through bottle after bottle. Both were alarmingly drunk, but the mood was jovial and light. This was after all a celebration. 

“It still hasn’t quite sunk in,” Aziraphale said. “That we’re ok, I mean.” 

“We’re fine!” Crowley all but yelled, his volume control failing after so much wine. 

“Yes,” Aziraphale said. “But it still doesn’t feel quite real. Last time…last time I felt like this…” he trailed off. Crowley raised an eyebrow and Aziraphale watched entertained briefly by the height the demon managed. “Well, it was when we met, in the garden. I’d been so worried about meeting a demon but then you turned up and it was … well, you didn’t quite match up to what I was told.” 

“Didn’t match up?” Crowley looked distraught and Aziraphale rushed to explain through the drunken haze. 

“Nothing like that but heaven was all ways ‘Demon’s bad! Demons scary’ and well you weren’t bad, or scary. You were just a big snake.” 

“Just a big snake,” Crowley sounded like he might sulk. 

“You know,” Aziraphale said opening yet another bottle before standing and wobbling over to the couch. He plopped down next to the sprawled demon and refilled his glass. “I’ve been wondering, when I was you, well I mean when I was pretending to be you, down in Hell, I noticed something.” He watched as Crowley blushed, the red getting brighter and brighter, he smiled taking a moment to enjoy the demon’s embarrassment before taking mercy on his friend. “Your body doesn’t like...” he waved an arm rapidly in front of himself, “Limbs, I mean it feels like it’s constantly trying to shake them off.”

“Well, not literally but...” Crowley started 

“Which got me thinking about Eden and your other shape.” He smiled recalling the oversized snake fondly. “So, I was wondering...was wondering why don’t you do that more often?” 

“Do that?” Crowley said.

“Be a snake,” Aziraphale said. Crowley said nothing. “You were a beautiful snake, all shiny and ...” he trailed off realising what he was saying. 

“Um, yeah, well,” Crowley muttered now a lovely shade of red. “Well you said it yourself, my body likes that shape, not sure I’d be able to come out of it and thumbs... thumbs and other things are bloody useful.” The demon snorted. “I mean can you imagine what it’d be like being a bloody huge serpent these days, I’d end up in a zoo.”

“Nonsense,” Aziraphale said. “I’d never let that happen.” He hit the demon with his best, or at least the best version his drunken self could manage, “do it for me, dear,” eyes and waited. He was well aware that Crowley indulged him, sometimes to the point of it being ludicrous and that he abused it at times, but it was such fun to get his way, especially when it came to things like this. Besides, Crowley had said he valued the fact that Aziraphale could be a bit of a bastard. 

“Aww don’t make that face,” Crowley looked away. Aziraphale leaned forward and with a flick of the wrist any stage magician would be proud of he removed Crowley’s glasses. 

“No hiding,” he couldn’t help the giggle. “None what so ever, not anymore, not ever again.”

“Angel,” Crowley looked at him, his expression a mix of emotions that Aziraphale was far too drunk to decipher. Rather than try Aziraphale put as much force as he could into his “do it for me, dear” expression and watched with delight as Crowley crumbled. 

“Just for a little while,” Aziraphale said already knowing he’d won. “I... I’m just feeling terribly nostalgic after getting my sword back briefly and would love to see you like that one more time.” 

“Hold my drink,” Crowley thrust the already two thirds empty glass of wine at the angel and huffed. Aziraphale smiled knowing full well the sulk was for show. Crowley seemed to take an odd sort of pleasure in indulging Aziraphale’s whims. 

“Thank you, dear,” Aziraphale smiled delightedly as Crowley shimmered before him. 

It was impossible to pinpoint the exact moment of change, it was quick, quicker than he remembered it being in the garden. Suddenly where had lounged a very drunk demon now coiled the biggest damn snake Aziraphale had ever seen. 

Crowley as a snake was perfect, Aziraphale had no doubt that this stunning appearance was very much on purpose. His scales shimmered in the dull lamplight, ebony black reflecting blue back at him, the red of his belly scales looked deep and soft and without any real thought Aziraphale reached out and let his fingers run down the snake's side. 

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” he muttered. “You're softer than you look.” 

The snake gave him a look of disdain and flickered its tongue at him, he sniggered nearly dropping the two glasses he held. Turning towards the table he went to put the glasses aside. Once this was done, he turned back and yelped, Crowley the now-massive snake had moved silently, his face was inches from Aziraphale.

“Bastard,” Aziraphale smiled. “You're lucky I put the glass down.” The tongue flickered touching Aziraphale ’s nose. He winced and rubbed at his nose. Crowley leaned forward briefly touching their noses together.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, please review, I’d love to hear what you think of the fic. 
> 
> For information on published works and upcoming projects, release dates as well as weekly blogs check out www.katiemariewriter.co.uk

Crowley was stuck.

They had fallen asleep briefly on the sofa, then, at some point, had migrated to the bed Aziraphale kept upstairs. Aziraphale didn’t really remember this when he opened his eyes in the morning, he didn’t remember much initially. He’d been far too drunk last night, he only ever really slept when he got blackout drunk, hadn’t even sobered up properly before passing out and now his mouth tasted like old carpet that had been soaked in dogs and his head thumped with the rhythm of an uncoordinated polka band. 

“Uhh,” he managed eloquently. There was a sudden hissing to the left of him, a frantic sound, loud enough to force Aziraphale to open his eyes and turn his pounding head to discover the source. 

There was a massive, black snake on the bed. The damned thing was writhing, contorting itself in all manner of strange ways. It took Aziraphale’s hazy self a good long moment before he remembered Crowley had gone all snakey last night on one of the angel’s whims and had obviously fallen asleep like that. So, the creature next to him was a hungover, snake-Crowley. 

“You…” Aziraphale tried to say, but the taste in his mouth was so revolting he had to stop and gather himself. “You should change back,” he said after a moment, sitting up he rose to his feet. “Can’t imagine a hangover is fun in that form.” With a mammoth effort of concentration, the angel performed a miracle. His hangover was gone, his clothes unrumpled and his personal hygiene improved immensely. He felt like himself again.

Crowley did not change back.

Instead, he continued to writhe on the bed. Aziraphale frowned at him.

“Come now, no need for such dramatics, just change back, you can fix the whole hangover thing once your …you again.”

The snake did not change back. But it did stop writhing, it reared up so that its face was on a level with Aziraphale’s own and hissed loudly. The sound, while not words conveyed a lot of meaning. The main one being blind panic. Aziraphale knew what was wrong instantly and his stomach, which had up to that moment been voicing its complaints at a lack of breakfast fell two feet and landed somewhere around Aziraphale’s knees. 

“You’re stuck,” Aziraphale said, his mouth dry. The snake continued to hiss loudly and started writhing again in panic. “Calm down, calm down.” Aziraphale reached out and put his hands on the twisting mass, trying to calm his own suddenly racing heart. “It’s alright, it’s alright.” The snake froze and gave him a look that could only be interpreted as, “your mad if you think this is alright. How is this alright?” Crowley was a remarkably expressive creature for having no facial expressions to speak of. 

Aziraphale leaned back, standing straight and tried to think. Crowley was panicked and probably hungover, not the best frame of mind to be trying to alter one's physical being. Maybe if they could calm him down and shift the headache, he’d be able to change back.

“Come here,” he offered his arms without thought. “We’ll get you sorted.” The snake crawled slowly and remarkably carefully up his arm, draping itself around his shoulders and torso. “Goodness you’re heavy like this,” Aziraphale muttered turning and heading down to the kitchen. “You always look like your about to fly away in your other shape, like a strong wind will blow you and your wriggly hips away. Who knew you were this heavy.” The snake tightened its coils. “I’m not going to drop you,” Aziraphale muttered heading into the kitchen. “I was just surprised is all.” 

The angel set about making tea, and a small breakfast. This caused some problems as snakes didn’t usually eat crumpets or breakfast pastry. Aziraphale Eventually decided on eggs for Crowley, snakes ate eggs all the time, usually not fired or poached but the concept was the same surely.

“Right breakfast,” Aziraphale took them through to the closed shop and set out breakfast. “Once we’ve got you calmed down and feeling a bit more yourself, I’m sure you’ll be able to change right back.” 

By lunchtime Crowley’s hangover was gone, he’d eaten all the Angels eggs and was still a snake.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Aziraphale snapped while the snake fumed at him from the sofa. “Angel’s don’t really change form, I’ve no idea what’s gone wrong.” The snake shuddered and Aziraphale regretted his snap. Crowley had always been afraid of being stuck like this; he’d mentioned it on a few drunken binges. Now he was stuck, his fear had come to pass all because Aziraphale had had a passing fancy. Guilt ate at Aziraphale hard and fast, he couldn’t bear it. Couldn’t bare looking at the frightened eyes of his companion. He jerked to his feet. “Right, if this is going to last longer than a couple of hours, we will need things. I’m uh just going to pop out and get …things. Things we’ll need.” He was out the door before he’d finished speaking. 

Three hours later a slightly calmer Aziraphale came back through the door burdened heavily with ‘supplies. Crowley watched hissing quietly as Aziraphale unloaded a few heat lamps, a bag of frozen mice and a very large cake. The hissing increased in volume and became distinctly angry. 

“Yes, I can hear you,” Aziraphale huffed. “Look I bought things you might need and well, I needed this.” He gestured to the cake. “Stop sulking.” The angel lifted the heat lamps off the side and headed upstairs to set them up. He had cleared a large area of floor space before he realized Crowley would probably not want to sleep on the floor, he liked beds. So, he undid his hard work and rearranged the lamps to shine on the left side of the bed. Content in his efforts he returned to the kitchen and couldn’t help the dismayed cry that escaped him. 

The bag of frozen mice had been knocked on the floor and pushed to rest beside the bin. So that was a clear no then. But the true horror lay in the cake that was rapidly disappearing down the unhinged jaw of the gigantic bloody snake. All Aziraphale could do was watch as his cake vanished with little effort. When he was done Crowley turned his bitter gaze on the angel. 

“You’re going to get sick,” Aziraphale muttered softly. “Snakes don’t usually eat cakes. Also, that was petty.” Crowley looked smug and Aziraphale turned to head out of the kitchen into the shop. He collapsed into the armchair. 

He was disappointed not to have cake, but he wasn’t angry, not really. Crowley was stuck like this because Aziraphale had a sudden whim. He couldn’t speak so Aziraphale supposed this was Crowley’s way of saying he was angry with him. He flinched when he heard to sound of scales moving over the carpet, the idea of Crowley being mad at him, really mad at him, not just fake-sulking was making him sweat. Aziraphale looked to the side, focusing his eyes on the threads on the arm of his chair, he couldn’t bear to see those eyes frightened or angry. 

Crowley’s scales were cool when they brushed over his shoulders, Aziraphale didn’t move, he remained perfectly still while his friend slithered up the side of the chair and coiled himself around him until he was tightly wound around the angel, his head in the angel’s lap. Aziraphale swallowed the lump in his throat. 

“Are you getting bigger?” he said, his voice cracking. “You weren’t this long this morning,” Crowley said nothing, just let out a long breath and closed his eyes. Aziraphale let his fingers run over the snake’s head. “We’ll figure this out,” he said unsure if he was talking to Crowley or himself. “We will. You’ll be right as rain in no time. Until then, well you can steal my cakes and body heat as much as you like.”


	3. Chapter Three

Three weeks had passed, and Crowley was still a snake.

A grumpy, grumpy snake. 

Aziraphale didn’t blame him for the grumpiness, but it made finding a solution difficult with Crowley in a constant sulk. Trying to brainstorm a plan was almost impossible with the duel difficulties of Crowley’s sulk and his apparent lack of human vocal cords. 

“You talked in the garden,” Aziraphale grumbled, looking out at the drizzle covered city. “I don’t understand why you won’t talk now.” He glanced at the oversized creature, currently sulking under a heat lamp. “Is it that you can’t talk? Or is this something you’re doing to punish me?” 

That comment got the snakes attention, large yellow eyes opened, and he lifted his head to face the angel, a deliberate shake signalled a negative. Aziraphale sighed and sat on the sofa next to the snake. Crowley moved slowly out from under the heat lamp and over to Aziraphale, within minutes he was coiled around the angel, head resting on his shoulder. 

“This is my fault,” Aziraphale had been saying it for weeks. “I should be comforting you not the other way around,” Crowley said nothing, but his tongue flickered in a way that prior to this escapade Aziraphale had always found amusing. 

He was preparing to fall into a proper sulk himself, staring at the piles of books he had been reviewing trying to find a solution when the telephone rang. 

“Fell books,” he answered, his tone unenthusiastic. 

“Mr Aziraphale?” he recognised the voice but couldn’t place where from. It was a woman, with a strong American accent. 

“Yes?” he said slowly. 

“It’s Anathema,” the woman said. “I’m so pleased to have managed to find you. You have no idea how hard it’s been with you not being in the phone book. How do you even run a business not being in the book?”

“Oh yes!” Aziraphale said as his brain kicked into gear and he remembered the lovely young lady and her chap from the not-apocalypse. He turned to face Crowley who had moved his head to be pressing alongside Aziraphale, clearly eavesdropping with no subtlety at all. “It’s the book lady.” 

“Book lady?” Anathema said. “Oh yes.”

“Oh, it was a marvellous book,” Aziraphale started gushing before he could stop himself. “I’m something of a collector of prophecy books you see and…” Crowley bumped against him firmly. “Um… I mean, what can I do for you?”

“Well, this is difficult to explain,” Anathema sounded uncomfortable, her voice sticking on the words. “But I have certain skills, skills that allow me to be more observant than the average person.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

“You’re a witch, my dear,” he said. “I’m quite aware.” This seemed to surprise Anathema as she was silent a moment. 

“Yes,” she said after the long moment. “Well, I’ve been having some trouble sleeping and I’ve long since learned to listen to what I’m told, and this is telling me that I need to speak with you.” Crowley seemed to perk up, his tongue flickered hitting off the receiver, Aziraphale shh’ed him. 

“You need our help?” he said. 

“I rather think you might need mine,” Anathema said. “The dreams weren’t clear, I’m no Agnus, but when I get something like this I pay attention.”

“We need your help,” Aziraphale mumbled, he glanced at Crowley. “Well, you might have something there but…”  
“Now before you start, I am well aware that you and the other chap, the one with the glasses, that you’re not entirely human, that you're more supernatural in nature.” Had Aziraphale been drinking his tea at this point he would have spat it out. 

“I am not supernatural!” he snapped. 

“Oh, I only meant…”

“I’m ethereal,” he corrected. “Or rather I was, I’m not entirely sure now, but I’m not supernatural. Crowley is supernatural.” Absently he rubbed the snakes head. 

“I didn’t mean any offence,” Anathema said. 

“None took, and you are right, we are in a spot of bother. To be honest, I’m stumped, a fresh mind could be helpful.”

“Marvellous,” Anathema said, her tone indicating that she did not think it was marvellous but that she was going to help regardless. “I’m in Tadfield, Newt thought it would be nice to check in on Adam.” 

“Yes,” Aziraphale said softly. “We meant to do that as well, but what with one thing and another.” 

“Life sometimes gets in the way,” Anathema agreed. “Right, when can we expect you?” Aziraphale’s mind went into a panic. He couldn’t drive, and he could hardly take Crowley as he was on the train, his options were seriously limited. 

“Um in about an hour?” he said, settling on a miracle as the only means of safely moving that kind of distance with Crowley. 

“But you’re in London,” Anathema said. 

“Yes quiet, but well… it’s hard to explain,” 

“An hour then,” Anathema said. “Fantastic, I look forward to it.” 

Aziraphale spent the next hour frantically rushing around the shop, forcing what he thought he might need into several bags. He packed all but one of the heat lamps, some of them were a bit on the big side and he struggled to get them into the bags. He also brought along all the books he had yet to review which took even more bags. Crowley watched unblinking from under the one surviving heat lamp over the sofa. 

“I think that will do?” Aziraphale muttered looking at the pile of bags. “Right, yes, now come on.” He gestured for Crowley to come over. At first, Crowley hesitated, not keen to leave his warm spot. But after a moment he slid down from the sofa and slowly coiled up Aziraphale, wrapping himself tightly around the angel until he was completely off the floor. Aziraphale winced. 

“I swear you weigh more as a snake than a man dearest,” he muttered, Crowley tightened his grip. “Stop that, fiend.” Even though Crowley’s face was far less expressive than his more human visage Aziraphale could have sworn he caught the snake smirking. He let out a ‘harrumph’ and concentrated on the miracle. 

He knew he’d succeeded when the warmth of the bookshop vanished and was replaced by mid-winter drizzle and wind. Crowley flinched against him. They were in the garden of the witch’s cottage in Tadfield, all the bags had arrived safely as well for which Aziraphale was pleased. However, the weather was quickly going to cause some damage to both the contents of the bags and Crowley. Aziraphale stalked forwards carrying Crowley and two of the bags, grumbling that he’d forgotten an umbrella. 

As he reached the door Crowley suddenly thrashed against him. Letting out a strange and unpleasant sound. 

“What the…” was all Aziraphale could manage as Crowley freed himself from the angel as rapidly as possible and slithered under the nearest bush. “What was that about?” Aziraphale leaned down to inspect his snake and noted steam coming from the scales. Crowley glared out at him from beneath the bush. 

“Mr Aziraphale?” Anathema’s voice called. 

“Over here,” Aziraphale waved. “I’m afraid we’ve got some luggage and Crowley’s being a tad strange.”   
“Crowley? Oh, the man with the glasses?” Anathema came out of the cottage, Newt following behind her, he went to the bags and started taking them inside, for which Aziraphale was grateful. Anathema came and crouched beside him looking under the bush.

“How did a grown man fit under…oh.” She stopped seeing the gigantic snake currently cowering under her privet hedge. 

“He just panicked,” Aziraphale muttered. “We were heading to the door and he…” Aziraphale shrugged. “Come out dear thing, stop being a wimp.” 

“You mentioned supernatural,” Anathema said. “I have wards, they must have reacted. But the wards are supposed to only stop evil creatures.” 

“Crowley is a demon,” Aziraphale muttered absently reaching under the bush. “Come on, out you come.” He pulled an unwilling and hissing Crowley out from under the bush. “Could you take the wards down?” 

“He’s a demon?” Anathema said slowly. “As in fire and brimstone demon.” 

“Yes, quiet,” Aziraphale said. “Though one wouldn’t think it considering how he’s behaving!” Aziraphale gave Crowley one last tug pulling him free of the bush. “That and we no longer affiliate with our respective head offices.” 

“Respective?” Newt said coming up behind Anathema. 

“Oh yes, now the wards please, it’s dreadfully chill out here.” Aziraphale shuffled Crowley into a more comfortable position in his arms. Anathema nodded to Newt who reached up and took down the horseshoe. Aziraphale smiled widely and carried Crowley inside, setting him on a small sofa and starting to route through the bags looking for a heat lamp. 

“So, glasses guy is a snake?” Newt said as he and Anathema entered the cottage. 

“Yes,” Aziraphale said. “It’s a talent of his, shifting to this shape, but it had been so long since he’d done it and well … we had a few drinks and he’s … stuck.” 

“A demon got drunk, turned into a snake and can’t turn back,” Newt said slowly. Crowley, now fully mortified, crawled under the sofa cushions as much as possible, which wasn’t much given his current size. 

“It’s my fault really,” Aziraphale felt his face heating red. “I remembered how much I liked this shape,” he sat next to Crowley on the sofa and reached under the sofa cushion to pull the snakes head out. “It’s beautiful, I pushed him to change, he didn’t want to, he knew this would happen you see.” 

“Hey demon snake dude,” Newt knelt on the floor and reached out to touch Crowley’s head. Crowley bit him. “Ouch!” 

“He’s grumpy,” Aziraphale muttered. “And not a pet.” 

“No kidding,” Newt shook his hand rapidly. “Suppose I should be grateful there are no teeth.” 

“Big softy,” Aziraphale muttered to Crowley. Anathema and Newt gave him and look. “Show them,” Aziraphale said. Crowley turned his head facing into Aziraphale’s stomach. “Don’t be like that.” Crowley slowly turned his head back and opened his jaw. His mouth opened to a shocking degree revealing very long, very sharp teeth. Aziraphale grinned. “See he’s just grumpy.” 

“Ok,” Newt had gone very pale. “Um, I’m going to check ion the children.” He wobbled to his feet and staggered out of the living room. 

“Adam and his friends are visiting,” Anathema explained when Aziraphale gave her a confused look. “They’ve grown rather fond of us, it’s nice.” 

“Children are a delight,” Aziraphale agreed. Anathema nodded. 

“So, we need to figure out how to unstick Mr Crowley,” Anathema said, her tone becoming determined. 

“I’ve brought the books I hadn’t got around to reviewing yet,” Aziraphale stood up from the sofa and gestured to the bags, he knelt and picked up a tome. “I have hope that the answer will be in here somewhere.”   
“I’ve got some resources,” Anathema said. “Though I must admit I never thought I’d be using them for something like this.” She paused, her eyes going wide for a moment. “We cannot tell my mother there’s a demon on my sofa.” 

“Mother?” 

“Never mind,” Anathema said. “But just in case you answer my phone and it’s her don’t say anything.” 

“Um ok,” Aziraphale said. “If it helps, I am an angel?” 

“An angel and a demon,” An lifted an eyebrow, “You’ll have to tell us that story one day.” 

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Aziraphale felt himself blush. Anathema shook her head and gestured for Aziraphale to follow her through to the kitchen where most of her ‘resources’ were kept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, please review, I’d love to hear what you think of the fic. 
> 
> For information on published works and upcoming projects, release dates as well as weekly blogs check out www.katiemariewriter.co.uk


	4. Chapter 4

“So, am I the only one who’s bitterly disappointed?” Newt said standing in the doorway to the living room, he was staring purposefully at the gigantic demonic snake currently coiled around four children, all of whom were watching cartoons. 

“Disappointed?” Anathema asked, accepting the cup of tea Aziraphale offered her as he came up behind the two humans staring into the living room. 

“There’s a demon snake in the living room, currently watching cartoons and cuddling children,” Newt said. “Not very demonic is it?” 

“You being the expert, naturally,” Aziraphale huffed. “Would you rather he be eating them? Besides’ Crowley can be…” Crowley looked up from the television and hissed loudly before Aziraphale could finish. “Yes, I know,” Aziraphale muttered sipping his own tea, “You’re not nice.” 

“He bloody well is nice,” Newt muttered turning to face Anathema, he did not notice Crowley uncoiling himself from the children and slithering towards him. “Demons are supposed to be terrifying and, you know, demonic.” 

“You’re really torn up that he’s behaving himself?” Anathema snorted; she had noticed the approaching Crowley. She watched the snake as Newt continued his rant, Crowley coiled himself at Newts feet before rising up until his head was level with Newts. He hissed loudly. 

“Yes, yes,” Newt waved his hand, “scary demon.” Crowley looked at a sudden loss. Newt hadn’t even jumped. “Bloody Ka in the jungle Book was scarier than you.”

“Come back, Snake-Dude,” Adam called from the sofa. “You’re going to miss it.” Crowley sulked back to the sofa, once again coiling around the children, but only because they were warm, obviously. He let Adam rest his hand on his head, small fingers rubbing gently at his scales. 

“This isn’t getting us anywhere,” Anathema muttered turning to head back into the kitchen. She was followed by Newt and Aziraphale.

“Joking aside,” Newt said when they were back in the kitchen. “It’s just not what I was expecting.” 

“Some of the demons are as you say,” Aziraphale shrugged. “Awful creatures really, vindictive and spiteful. Crowley … well, he’s different.” 

“Must be to be friends with an angel,” Anathema said. “But I suppose you’d be different from the other angels as well then? To be friends with a demon I mean.” 

“I’m not a very good angel, not really,” Aziraphale said. “I’m indulgent, selfish, petty…” 

“Stop that,” Anathema said. “No more of your self-pity, between your self-pity and Crowley’s sulking I’m not surprised you haven’t sorted this yet.”

“Well,” Newt said. Anathema gave him a look. “It’s just we haven’t fixed it either and its been nearly a week.” 

“I’m not versed in demonic shapeshifting,” Anathema huffed. “It’s a sharp learning curve.” 

“She’s right,” Aziraphale said firmly. “We’ve made some progress besides, and I’m glad we’re here. Crowley’s certainly perked up a bit.” 

“Yup, the demonic snake is happier surrounded by children,” Newt said. “Proper devilish that one.” 

“More mischievous than devilish,” Anathema said smiling, recalling the game of hide and seek that had gone on before the cartoons started. Watching a huge snake trying to fit under the sofa only to be barked at by a diminutive hellhound was a unique way to spend the morning. Fortunately, Dog had backed down when he got a good look at the demon’s teeth, leaving a smug Crowley to his hiding spot, despite the fact that four feet of his tail protruded from the sofa. 

“Is there anything else we can try?” Newt said, snapping her out of her thoughts. 

“We’ve exhausted all the books,” Aziraphale said. “How about your mother? Have you heard from her yet?” 

“She emailed this morning,” Anathema said. “Unimpressed still, and disappointedly empty-handed.” 

“Bother,” Aziraphale said. 

“And there’s no other angels or demons you can talk to?” Anathema said. Aziraphale shook his head. 

“As I said before our ties are cut with head office,” Aziraphale slumped into a stool at the breakfast nook. 

“Anathema,” Adam called from the kitchen doorway. The three adults looked up. “We’re going to head outside for a while.”

“That’s nice, be careful,” Anathema smiled. Adam nodded. 

“Can we take Snake-Dude?” he asked. 

“Best not,” Aziraphale said. “It’s a bit cold for him outside, plus I doubt the residents of Tadfield will appreciate a twenty-foot snake wandering about.” Adam looked momentarily disappointed before nodding and turning out of the kitchen. Aziraphale smiled after him. 

“He’s a good lad,” he said softly. “Good upbringing gave him a proper head on his shoulders. I dread to think what it would have been like had our plan worked.” 

“Who knows,” Anathema said. “It’s might have worked just fine, but…” she trailed off. Aziraphale nodded and stood heading back into the living room. Crowley was curled on the sofa alone now, the cartoons had stopped, the news played on the television which Aziraphale switched off. 

“Squish up, dear,” Aziraphale said. Crowley looked up and down the small sofa and then back at Aziraphale clearly communicating that moving would not be happening, he barely fit on the sofa as it was. “Fine,” Aziraphale said and lifted a portion of Crowley up before settling on the sofa himself letting Crowley rest on top of him. Crowley shuffled himself around until his head was in Aziraphale’s lap.   
“I’m sorry to report that we’re still not making much progress, all we seem to be able to do is find out who doesn’t know the answer.” Aziraphale started rubbing at Crowley’s head, flinching when dry scales flaked off in his hand. “You’re shedding, dear.” Crowley blinked large yellow eyes at him and gave what Aziraphale thought of like a snake equivalent of a shrug. 

“They are all trying so hard, I feel so useless,” Aziraphale continued. “You’ve been stuck like this for so long now, over a month, what if … what if…” he couldn’t finish the sentence, a lump forming in his throat trapping his words. 

“You’re not helping,” Anathema said from behind the sofa, Aziraphale jumped, he hadn’t heard her approach. She came around to crouch in front of the pair. Aziraphale found himself gripping Crowley tightly. “I spent my whole life studying prophecy,” she said softly. “And do you want to know what I found?” Aziraphale nodded slowly. “That most prophecies are self-fulfilling. Not Agnus’ I admit, hers were true, if a little obscure at times. But most people if they believe something hard enough then it comes to pass.” 

“What are you saying?” Aziraphale said. 

“That if you believe Crowley is going to be trapped forever as a snake,” Aziraphale’s grip tightened again. Crowley tried to breathe but found it difficult, under the angel’s surprisingly strong grip. “Then he might well be, because you’ll stop looking, unconsciously.” 

“I would never,” Aziraphale said. “But I think I understand what you mean.” He snorted an uncomfortable laugh. “An angel being instructed in the faith.” He laughed louder; it was a brittle sound. “I told you I was a bad angel.” 

***

Crowley was quiet for the rest of the day, not that he was particularly verbose in his snake form but Aziraphale had picked up on his meaning via body language over the last few weeks. But since Anathema’s comments on a self-fulfilling prophecy, he had become still. Even when the children returned, he vacated the sofa and hid himself away under the double bed. It didn’t feel like a sulk, which Aziraphale had become good at spotting, instead it felt like Crowley was worried. It unsettled Aziraphale to see him such and he excused himself in the evening to go and sit on the floor beside the bed Crowley was hiding under. 

“You know we’ll sort this, right?” he said after a long moment of sitting quietly together. “I will fix this; I won’t let you stay stuck.” Crowley’s head emerged from the bed, sliding across the floor to rest in Aziraphale’s lap. “You’re …you’re very dear to me, old boy,” Aziraphale fought past the lump in his throat that always formed when he tried to give voice to his feelings regarding the demon. “So much, so very much. I know I’m not the most expressive when it comes to this. I let my fear of the possible repercussions control me.” He let out a slow shaky breath and tried to compose himself. “I let fear control me, I thought it was faith, faith in heaven, in what Gabriel told me. I never should have listened to him; I should have listened to you. It’s always been our side. You and me.” he looked down at Crowley. “Well, our side is going to beat this, together.” 

They continued to sit on the floor for a time, Aziraphale’s backside went numb and Crowley slept, Aziraphale wished for a moment that he was more up to date with technology, he knew today's phones could record video and he desperately wanted to preserve on film the moment that Crowley started to snore. The sound was one Aziraphale would treasure; a low rumble followed by a small squeak as the air was pushed out Crowley’s nose. 

“I wonder if you do that in your other shape,” Aziraphale smiled. “Snore I mean, I doubt it would be as cute as this.” The snake on his lap shifted slightly. “I know, I know you’re not cute, or nice. Except that you are.” He smiled wider. “You’ve always been nice to me; it was part of what upset my equilibrium so much. That you were so nice. A demon, a creature of the pit, was nice, thoughtful, brave and utterly selfless when it came to me. While, angels …. weren’t.” 

He let out a sudden laugh that was loud enough to wake Crowley. “Oh, I’m sorry dear, I was just remembering. Do you remember when I opened my bookshop?” the snake blinked sleepily at him. “I was getting ready for the grand opening and Gabriel turned up with talk of returning home and medals. Do you remember?” he asked feeling exhausted tears forming. “He was going to give my bookshop to Michael. Then I looked up and saw you out the window, you called Michael a wanker.” He laughed again, tears falling this time. “Now whenever I see Michael or someone talks about him, all I can hear in my mind is you, ‘Michael’s a wanker!’ I swear I’ve laughed in his face a couple of times because of it.” He stopped laughing and wiped at his face. “I was so worried they’d see you, but not because it would mean they’d catch us and figure out the arrangement, but because Gabriel could kill you. I was so flustered but you’d vanished so quickly.” He swallowed hard; the lump was back. 

“When you went to heaven as me,” he shook his head. “I thought I’d be sick. I was so frightened. What if they found you? I couldn’t bear it, the thought of it.” The snake in his lap, let out a quiet hiss. “Yes, your quite right,” Aziraphale mumbled. “No point in worrying about what could have happened, it didn’t happen. We did it, we beat them. Now, now we’ll beat this.” He fidgeted, feeling the blood rushing back to his legs and backside. “But I really must get up, don’t hide under here for too long, ok? It’s not warm enough.” Aziraphale got to his feet watching the snake retreat back under the bed. 

***  
Aziraphale didn’t sleep, as a rule, however, stress, exhaustion and emotional exhaustion finally pushed him over the edge. He rested his head on the breakfast nook at around 3:15am and was woken at 6:30am but someone rustling around in the fridge. 

“What?” he muttered, blinking his eyes to clear the sleep from them. 

“I’m going to make you Crepes,” Crowley’s backside was sticking out of the fridge, a very human backside. “I have no idea how, but I have Google.” The rest of Crowley emerged from the fridge, eggs and milk in his arms. “They are going to be amAziraphaleing, best crepes ever.” 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale yelled, forgetting the early hour. He jumped out of the stool he was perched on, or rather he tried to. But all of his half-asleep limbs trying to explosively move at once did not work and he toppled off the stool, landing on the tiled floor with no dignity. He was already scrambling to his feet, as the demon dropped the eggs and milk in an effort to catch him, and all but launched himself across the kitchen. He hit Crowley hard, Crowley slipped on broken eggs and they both toppled backwards into the resultant mess of raw egg and spilt milk. 

“Um…hello Angel,” Crowley said. “That was possibly the most enthusiastic good morning I have ever seen and I hadn’t even made the Crepes yet.” 

“Fuck the Crepes,” Aziraphale said. Crowley snorted a laugh but it was cut short when the air in his lungs was forced out by Aziraphale’s grip on him. Aziraphale was a lot stronger than he looked. 

That was how Anathema and Newt had found them ten minutes later when they emerged, baseball bat and a heavy-duty torch in hand. 

“Hullo,” Crowley tried to wave but his arm that wasn’t wrapped around Aziraphale was stuck under him. 

“Um hello,” Anathema said. “Crowley?” 

“The one and only,” Crowley smirked then looked at Aziraphale, who had gone a delightful shade of red. “Can we get up angel, the uh…eggs are soaking through my jeans.” 

“Oh of course,” Aziraphale all but leapt to his feet, pulling the demon with him. “I’m so sorry, dear.” 

“Nonsense,” Crowley said, all but ignoring the two humans watching them. “Best hello ever. 10 out of 10.” Aziraphale turned a darker shade of red. “Need to do it every day.” He snapped his fingered and the broken eggs, spilt milk and resulting mess was gone, the reformed eggs and milk bottle were sitting on the counter. 

“So,” Anathema said dragging the word out, “you figured out the solution?” she looked to Aziraphale who shook his head. 

“I fell asleep,” he muttered. 

“You can take credit for finding the solution,” Crowley said, pulling out a stool and offering it to Aziraphale before taking the one next to him, shifting it close to the angel before perching on it. “Your talk about self-fulfilling prophecies, it made me think, this hadn’t been done to me. If it had then there would be residual magic, I’d sense it.” 

“Magic always leaves a residue,” Anathema nodded, starting to wake up a bit. 

“But there wasn’t any. Which meant either,” he held up his fingers, counting off the possibilities. “The person who did this is some kind of magic ninja, or I did it to myself.”

“Self-fulfilling prophecy,” Anathema said suddenly enthusiastic. Crowley nodded. 

“I was so sure I’d get stuck, that I did,” he couldn’t quite meet anyone’s eyes, admitting this. 

“You mean you did this!” Aziraphale said. 

“Not on purpose, but yeah. Once I figured that out, coming back from it was … annoyingly easy.” 

“You …you moron!” Aziraphale snapped, for a moment it looked like he would hit Crowley. “I was absolutely terrified, I thought I had done this to you and it was you!” 

“Calm down angel,” Crowley held up his hand’s palms facing out.

“No!” Aziraphale said. “You’re always telling me that I’m the dumbest person you’ve ever met and then you pull this stunt.” 

“To start with it wasn’t a stunt, I thought I was stuck as much as you did. Secondly, I never call you the dumbest person, I said you were the dumbest smart person.” 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Aziraphale snapped. 

“It does,” Crowley snapped right back. “You’re really bloody clever then you think it's your fault that I got myself stuck. Seems pretty dumb to me.” 

“How dare you,” Aziraphale snapped. 

“Are you always like this?” Anathema interrupted. Crowley and Aziraphale looked at her. 

“The yelling while holding hands thing?” Newt said, trying not to laugh, gesturing to their hands clasped tightly together between them. “It’s almost as funny as the threatening not to talk to each other during the apocalypse.” 

“I didn’t …” Aziraphale started but stopped. He did not let go of Crowley’s hand.

“You did angel,” Crowley muttered. “Told me you’d never speak to me again unless I fixed everything. Which I did.” 

“Adam did,” Anathema corrected. 

“Yes but,” Crowley all but preened. “I bought him time to think.” 

“Uh-huh,” Newt said, Crowley frowned. 

“This is rubbish,” he snapped. “I’ve not been back to normal for more than twenty minutes and everyone is yelling at me. Also, I’m pretty fed up with your stupid comments on how bloody un-devilish I am!” Crowley ranted. “I made the bloody M25 for crying out loud.” 

“That was you!” Newt said. “Asshole!” 

“Yes!” Crowley laughed. “Suck on that.” 

“Suck on what?” Aziraphale interrupted the flow of Crowley’s rant. 

“Just a phrase, Angel,” Crowley said. “Don’t mind it.” Aziraphale huffed indignantly. 

“Fine, but just so you know, this whole debacle will take at least six Crepes to make up for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, please review, I’d love to hear what you think of the fic. 
> 
> For information on published works and upcoming projects, release dates as well as weekly blogs check out www.katiemariewriter.co.uk


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